


Desert

by RarePairFairy



Category: The Mummy Series
Genre: Ardeth being mysterious, Jonathan being an awesome uncle, M/M, and drunken pining, fucktons of sand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 14:19:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RarePairFairy/pseuds/RarePairFairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan realizes that maybe he doesn't want to leave Egypt after all.</p><p>This is what happens when I rediscover movies I loved when I was 12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve always wondered what the beef was between Ardeth Bay and Lock-Nah. I never found out how they knew each other, so at first my headcanon was that Ardeth had a male lover that Lock-Nah killed on some shady business trip, which would allow me to think of him as sexually available to another man (assuming Jonathan’s unconventional, flirtatious, lawless nature extended far enough for him to want to seduce hot Egyptian men). But then I thought, if that were the case, Ardeth would have reacted more violently to seeing Lock-Nah at the O’Connell’s house. So instead, I decided that Lock-Nah slept with Ardeth once, possibly in order to get information on medjai movements before the whole Scorpion King business, and Ardeth has been holding an emotional grudge ever since. This would also allow Ardeth to use connections he gained during his fling with Lock-Nah to find out about the dig led by Anck-Sunamun and Mr Hafez (I’m not sure if that’s the correct spelling of their names -_-‘) to find Imhotep in the beginning of the movie.  
> As for Jonathan, I had a little trouble dismissing him as the comic relief guy, even though this was a tropey adventure film series. He always struck me as deeper than he appeared, and I loved his family dynamic. He really seemed like he would do anything for Evie and Alex, scared as he was of all the mummies and crazy people. Basically, I feel like he could be that English toff who seems flippant and impossible to take seriously, when really he’s been dealing with this repressed attraction to men his whole life and actually has a whole other emotional level which he keeps to himself, waiting for the right guy to come along and share it with.  
> Why yes, I did put too much thought into this. I love me some details. A detail-less narrative is like a stripper with his shirt and pants still on.

‘Jonathan?’

‘Yes?’

‘That’s my husband and my son down there. Make me proud.’

 _And that Arab fellow_ , Jonathan added petulantly in his mind. _Don’t forget about him_.

By all rights, Jonathan ought to be mainly concerned for his nephew and brother-in-law. And he was. He was also ever so slightly ashamed for being just as deeply worried about a man he had not even seen in ten years until one short week ago. But Ardeth had melted irremovably into Jonathan’s psyche like ice into brandy, diluting his every thought, a constant reminder that Jonathan Carnahan wasn’t what he used to be. Not since he had to deal with the distracting tightness in his chest, the embarrassing physical response every time he turned around and saw those dark eyes, that long black hair, the unfairly beautiful lips and the dramatic silhouette offered by the drapery of the man’s loose clothing.

The possibility of losing that, of not seeing Ardeth any more hurt badly enough when it was just the looming truth of having to say goodbye when his family left Egypt again. The prospect of having to watch Ardeth get shot or stabbed was infinitely worse. So, bringing himself back to the present, Jonathan double-checked to make sure his shotgun was fully loaded, and focussed in on the pair of familiar torsos, his brother-in-law and his paramour, making their way toward the mass of black and red and torches that made up Imhotep’s entourage.

.

If Jonathan hadn’t been mesmerised by the sweeping, lethal grace of Ardeth’s skill with a sword, he may have missed the red-clad mercenary whose gun was suddenly, too suddenly, pressed into Ardeth’s back. So he did not think when he squeezed the trigger. He aimed, he shot, and he dimly realized,

_I just killed a man._

Not so dimly, his heart hammered in his chest, hoping against hope that the shocked expression on Ardeth’s face was not that he had just been shot, but that he had just been rescued.

And, thank god, he had. The gunman fell back, and Ardeth glanced up and nodded to Jonathan as if this was just another day at the office.

But he was alive. Breathing, now running, very much alive.

‘Let’s go,’ Evie said.

‘Thank god for that,’ Jonathan said breathlessly, and followed his sister.

.

The sight of him again, the salute surely meant for Rick, the rearing horse and the red sun, were all too romantic for Jonathan. His heart seemed to cringe in his chest and he waved dismissively to the black figure far below, returning his attention to the diamond he had risked his life to retrieve only moments ago; the diamond that seemed, really, just like a fancy rock now. A fancy rock that would make him filthy rich, but a rock, all the same.

He would rather have swung down to lift up Ardeth in his arms. To bring him back to the boat. To cling to him in joy.

But it was all silly and wishful thinking, and really. What would his sister think? Never mind his sister, what would Ardeth think? If he ever found out the truth of Jonathan’s feelings he would probably behead him with that fancy curved dagger of his, in defence of his medjai honour.

Jonathan stuck into a heated debate with Izzy over whose the fancy rock really was. After all, he had the diamond.

And that would have to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Their temporary rooms in Cairo were more elaborate and high-class than Jonathan had been hoping for when they first took the trip. The fuss of making sure the house would be taken care of in their absence, coupled with their urgency to get to Egypt and rescue Alex, hadn’t left much room to worry about lodging arrangements. Funding the trip the whole time had been up to the O’Connells, and their accounts, while substantial, were not bottomless. But fortunately, as if the universe was responding to their defeat of the Scorpion King, an investment suggested by their shrewd stockbroker went up by almost 15% two days before they returned to Cairo to book passage back to England, and they found that celebrating their survival and their victory was more easily done in rooms decorated with red damask, heavy drapes, white silk, champagne buckets (which Alex wasn’t allowed to touch but got into anyway) and heavy security, to better guard Jonathan’s new beloved glimmering trinket (Which Izzy wasn’t allowed to touch but coveted anyway).

Rick and Evie went to their rooms to tidy up – several days in a crippled dirigible left little time for hygiene – and Alex was left with Jonathan. The two explored after depositing the diamond in a safe in the special vaults beneath the hotel, never straying too far from the building. There was a blue pool under a high domed glass ceiling, with decorative fronds and ostrich plumes held by young men in white uniforms to fan guests, and there was a café on the roof, and there was a casino and a bar. Part of Jonathan wanted to stay with his family through the night, to see them all and know that they were safe. But Rick and Evie needed time to be with their son. And Jonathan was incredibly glad to have Alex safe. But the boy was with him for now, and they could muck about together during the last of the daylight hours, and Jonathan was happy enough to do just that.

So they explored, paddled and splashed in the shallow end of the blue pool with their dusty trouser legs rolled up over their knees, ignoring the glares of older patrons in their swimming costumes. And after that, they went up to the rooftop café and Jonathan got an ice cream for them each, and then they went back downstairs. By then Rick and Evie were dressed for dinner, so Jonathan left Alex with them and went to search out some clothes.

Since this wasn’t London, there was no handy shopping district for him to dash off to, and he doubted he’d find an acceptable dinner jacket at the marketplace. So after an hour and a half of hunting, he gave up, went back to his rooms to make a slapdash effort to wash his shirt and trousers in a basin, and lounged about in his underwear until they dried.

By then it was dark, and he was tossing up on whether to bother with the casino. No, he decided; if there was any chance of him brazenly betting his diamond on a card game (which there was, whenever there were cards and trinkets and Jonathan involved) he didn’t want to risk it. He’d lost his own car in a bet once, and knew how badly such a loss could sting. No more crying of grief in the bath wrapped around a carafe of red wine for him.

So he went to the bar instead, which was a little nearer the hotel’s restaurant, which would make it easier for Rick to find him and haul him back to his bed at midnight.

The hours ticked by, and Jonathan sat alone in a booth staring at the stars. The trouble with drinking alone, of course, was that his mind eventually drifted from his nephew and his sister, both retrieved safe and sound, to Ardeth, who was as good as lost. Forever.

Possibly he could have kissed him. Just briefly, before they parted ways in the oasis, in the night where the others would not have seen. Where Ardeth would not have had time to confront Jonathan and make it awkward and awful. Maybe they could have done more than briefly clasp each other’s shoulders in a display of manly support. But no. He had wasted that brief window of opportunity and had no small memory to cling to. Only fantasies.

Well, why not. Why not fantasize a little.

Jonathan poured himself one more glass of wine and went to sit in a bay window, looking out over the squared-off rooftops, tall palm trees at the wooden gates, and colour tinged with torches and lanterns. He had a lot to be grateful for.

He pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, and felt like an ungrateful bastard. Evie may as well have stayed dead, Alex may as well have stayed lost, for all the emptiness in his heart.

So this was what love felt like.

.

He saw his favourite part of Egypt in his dreams. He saw nothing but desert all around him, great mountainous dunes, cold and blue under the moonlight. Miles of nothing but stars and sand. He used to hate this place. He was afraid of it. And he feared it still, but he loved it more than he feared it. The symbolism was not lost on him, even in his sleep. He waited impatiently for the other thing he loved more than he feared.

But Ardeth did not appear.

Jonathan jerked awake, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and not realizing until he gagged that his stomach was lurching. Stumbling out of bed, Jonathan collapsed on the toilet, too dazed by sleep and by leftover drunkenness to stand up to pee.

He saw his jacket hanging on the hook over the door. So Rick had found him at the bar and brought him in. He typically left his jacket on the floor, with his pants and socks, whenever left to his own devices. Speaking of which, his pants and shirt were folded haphazardly on a chair with his socks hanging over the back of it. So Rick must have also performed the daunting task of getting a spaghetti-limbed drunken in-law out of his clothes before he had a chance to soil them.

Maybe this particular adventure had made Rick uncharacteristically merciful and kind. Jonathan would have to thank him profusely in the morning.

Jonathan rubbed his eyes and went to find the basin. A jug of fresh water had been set by it. He set about stripping off his under things and washing himself. It was very dark, probably near morning. He moved his clothes from the chair and washed them again after wiping himself down. He did not properly notice it at the time, and if his nose did, then he dismissed it as his imagination. But his shirt smelled like the desert.

.

‘Thanks, by the way.’

Rick glanced sideways at Jonathan. ‘What for?’

‘Carrying me back to my room, sorting me out. I assume I rambled some drunken nonsense at you. Of course all of this travel and drama has wreaked havoc on my nerves. The sooner we’re back on English soil, the better, if you ask me.’

Rick narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. ‘I didn’t carry you back to your room.’

.

Jonathan sat bolt upright on the bench at the train station, alarming Evie and nearly sending Alex toppling off onto the flagstone floors. He had been dozing, and, before he was ready, he had begun to remember.

It came back vaguely, in foggy fragments. An arm tight around his waist, stumbling as he tried to walk in a straight line while practically hanging from a man’s shoulders. A shadowy man, a curtain of black hair, a glimpse of a tattoo. Leaning his head against the door as he fiddled with the lock, being pulled back and landing against a firm chest. Having his hand directed. Held. The terribly delicious feel of his hand in the gentle grip of that hand, even if it was just to align the key with the lock, and then to abruptly let go.

Clinging to a fold of loose black fabric as he was lowered onto the bed. Begging the man to stay. Sitting up, blearily, tucking his head under, into the hollow between the strong neck and the v of his layered collar and inhaling, futilely, because all he could really smell was his own alcoholic fog.

Jonathan’s heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t hear a single word until Rick slapped him upside the head. The sound of the trains and the worrying of his company seemed to come back to him in a rush.

‘What was that?’

‘What? What was what what?’ Jonathan knew he was making no sense. He was still half in his hotel room, half-struggling to remember, yet horrified by what had already come back to him.

‘You look like you just got electrocuted,’ Rick prompted. Jonathan froze for a moment, torn between the present and a shimmering mirage, a pinpoint of the past. Then he smiled casually.

‘Nearly fell asleep, is all. Very warm, isn’t it?’

Jonathan flapped his shirt collar about his neck and purposefully ignored the expression of concern on his sister’s face. Rick had already turned his back and was speaking to the stationmaster, and Alex had gone back to reading his book. Jonathan helplessly steered his mind to the memory in inner desperation.

His arms momentarily useless as he was divested of his shirt, his legs kicking weakly as his pants were gently peeled away. Fingertips on his forehead, brushing aside a lock of hair. A mouthful of water.

Reaching out to touch, fearing an illusion, a hallucination. The comforting sensation of sand-blasted fabric, a short trimmed beard, shoulders that reminded him of a racehorse or some other strong, handsome thing.

‘Slowly, now. You must sleep.’

An exotic purr of a voice. Deep and rough as the sea. Being eased back onto the sheets. The shadow of a man, hovering over him for a moment, perhaps to tuck him in.

Jonathan fought not to bury his face in his hands and cry. It was hard enough to come apart like this, but in public … and he would be stuck in a compartment with these people, these maddening, wonderful people that he loved, for hours until they reached the docks, to catch the boat home to England, and how could he possibly explain? If they asked him, how could he possibly put into words what was happening to him?

He wanted to turn around and run, all the way back to the desert, all the way back to Hamunaptra, anywhere, and find Ardeth. See him, touch him, tell him everything. Throw his arms around him and kiss him fiercely, hurl caution to the wind and crush the crushing feeling that was turning him into such a forlorn and useless man.

And naturally, this was the state he was in when he heard Alex call a greeting across the train station.

He abruptly lifted his head to see Rick striding across the platform and Evie standing to grab Alex by his collar, as a man all in black emerged from the sun through the steam suddenly bathing the station.


	3. Chapter 3

Jonathan’s heart stopped in his chest and he willed himself to vanish.

‘I came to see you off,’ Ardeth said, by way of greeting. ‘I was going to wave and be done, but …’

‘You can’t just wave! You have to come and say goodbye and do it properly,’ Alex said firmly.

Jonathan wanted to sink into the seat, and jump up and talk to him, both at once. But he did neither. He silently sat and stared, frozen.

‘Forgive me then,’ Ardeth said seriously, and held out his hand. Alex shook it ceremoniously. ‘I bid you farewell, my friends. I understand your train leaves within the hour.’

‘Within fifteen minutes, assuming it runs on time,’ Rick confirmed. Jonathan slowly stood, making sure Evie remained in front of him. His head was still swimming, and he had no idea what expression was on his face, so he purposefully schooled it into practiced composure, even as he hid. And Ardeth would be able to tell he was hiding, because he was exactly that kind of mysterious dark warrior, even standing at ease in a train station with no weaponry (at least not in plain sight).

All attempts Jonathan made at preparing himself to look placid failed when Ardeth did turn to face him, and Evie saw fit at that exact second to chase after Alex, whose book had skidded across the floor.

Left face-to-face, Jonathan felt his mouth dry and his mind stutter. All he could bring himself to do to break the awkward stasis was nod in acknowledgement. Ardeth did not nod in return, which was the first alarming thing. The second alarming thing was Rick dawdling after his wife and son, leaving Ardeth to step closer to Jonathan to close the conspicuous gap between them. Jonathan dragged himself back to the present. This was the last time he was going to see Ardeth, and he wasn’t going to spend the encounter swooning absent-mindedly. He could not stand to have another reason to slap himself on the way home. He’d be dignified, and if he couldn’t manage dignified, he would be himself, and at least Ardeth could remember him as he was, not as some vague shifty stranger.

‘I remember when I saw you first,’ Ardeth said, catching Jonathan off-guard even as he internally found some balance. His voice was low, lower than was characteristic, even for him. ‘You were holding a gun in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. You shot a warrior of mine right off his horse.’

‘Ha,’ Jonathan said after another moment of pause, and snapped his fingers. ‘I remember that night exactly. Rick and Evie hadn’t even kissed yet. I know because she still told me everything then. Still my baby sister, had to report in every new development.’ Now that he had opened his mouth, Jonathan found himself rambling, and tried to bring it to a close with a change of subject. ‘I think you tried to kill Rick. I distinctly remember you holding a sabre and looking very menacing.’

He could have kicked himself.

‘I tried to kill you first. He got in the way. We were trying to drive you out of Hamunaptra.’

‘Yes, I daresay it would have saved everyone an awful lot of trouble if you succeeded.’

Ardeth’s lips twitched up in one corner and he lowered his face, but not his eyes. ‘Perhaps. But it would have cost me the chance to get better acquainted with you.’

Jonathan blamed what he thought he saw on the heat, on the steam, on anything because he knew he had to have imagined the glint in Ardeth’s eye.

However it was hard to blame an obvious tilt of the head on heat or steam, so when Ardeth turned and walked back into the roiling white and around a corner, Jonathan followed him without looking back over his shoulder.

They passed a stationmaster and then they were in shadow, beyond dirty white brick and wooden board, alone in an empty narrow dead end and all too suddenly Jonathan was standing closer to Ardeth than he thought he’d ever been. He felt dizzy.

‘I fear I have left things too late,’ Jonathan heard, and was surprised to hear the sentence come from Ardeth, not from himself. ‘I hope you will forgive me this.’

Then time stopped.

Ardeth leaned in before there was any more time to speak and closed his mouth over Jonathan’s in a brief, passionate, explosive kiss. To keep from tumbling over under the pressure on his shaky knees, Jonathan’s hands darted out to dig into Ardeth’s shoulders and hold on tightly, fighting not for breath but for more suffocating intimacy even as he drowned, and then all too soon it was over and Ardeth’s eyes were most definitely glinting, there could be no mistake in the shaded alcove where there was no steam, but plenty of heat.

‘I was not sure – I had to be sure,’ Ardeth said, and it was glorious, wonderful to see, hear, _taste_ him so lacking in his usual coherent seriousness, that Jonathan threw caution to the wind and slid his arms all the way around Ardeth’s shoulders.

‘Try this on for size then.’

Jonathan wasn’t sure if Ardeth had ever kissed someone for the sake of simply kissing them before. He hadn’t the faintest clue whether medjai warriors were supposed to be chaste as monks until marriage, but he had never been so glad to have had plenty of practice himself, if Ardeth’s mounting enthusiasm and the gentle, muffled mumbles of encouragement were anything to go by.

He ought to be frantically worrying about the fact that, at any second, someone could walk past. They could be hanged for what they were doing. His sister might see. His nephew might see. And even if they got away with this clandestine embrace, he would be on the train in ten minutes, probably less, and he would still be able to feel the roughness of Ardeth’s beard, the tight breathless hold around his waist and just beneath his ribcage. Even if he got home, and he would have achieved at least this, this thing he had been dreaming about, kissing Ardeth …

Being kissed by him. Ardeth kissed him first. Jonathan wouldn’t faint facing a mummy, but he felt he surely could faint at the thought of Ardeth wanting him so badly that he would risk kissing him in a very nearly public place, just so they didn’t have to say goodbye with the terrible lack hanging over their heads.

Jonathan retreated as little as possible, just to draw in breath. He opened his eyes a fraction, and was pleased and unsettled to see the change already present in Ardeth’s face. He looked sobered, yet somehow absent, drunk on something, lips parted and eyes darting over Jonathan’s face.

‘I am sorry,’ he whispered, and Jonathan’s sharp sense of danger apparently applied to feelings as well.

‘What for?’ he said, a little too alertly, and Ardeth shut his eyes and rested his forehead on Jonathan’s.

‘I cannot watch you leave. I cannot say goodbye. Forgive me.’

‘First you ask me to forgive you for a kiss, now you’re asking me to forgive you for not wanting me to go?’ Jonathan said incredulously. ‘I suppose you’ll ask my forgiveness for undressing me and covering me in honey next.’

Ardeth smiled wryly. ‘If only we had the time.’

Jonathan’s mind worked a mile a minute. Distantly, he wondered how proud all the world’s fertility gods would be to see how efficient Jonathan became when the prospect of sex reared its beautiful head.

But there was much more to it now. Much more. There was a diamond of a man, a unique, only-one-in-the-whole-world man, and Jonathan was struck dumb as he realized the truth. Yes, he was in love, he knew that. But the lengths to which he would go. Maybe love wasn’t all pining and misery.

Who said he _had_ to go back to England?

‘What if we did?’ Jonathan asked, trying not to sound too bold.

‘If we did have the time?’ Ardeth checked. ‘How?’

Jonathan shrugged and pulled a little face. ‘I might have left something at the hotel. I might have left something very important at the hotel. Like, perhaps, a large diamond. At least, that’s what I could tell my sister. I could insist that I’ll catch a later train.’

Ardeth’s hands slid down Jonathan’s sides and a smile slowly spread across his face.

‘A _much_ later train. Possibly a few days later.’

Ardeth nuzzled Jonathan’s neck, and the whole plan very nearly slipped from his grasp.

‘She won’t know the diamond’s safely packed until they get back to England. Half our things are already shipped, and they did leave me in charge of organizing the transportation of my own diamond. It won’t seem so very out of character for me to do something foolish. They won’t take any notice even when they’re back in England, and find the diamond in all our luggage.’

‘You are a clever man, Jonathan Carnahan,’ Ardeth said, and Jonathan could feel the words being mouthed into his neck. It was enough to make his thoughts flounder about his head. For a blissful moment he let himself get lost in the sensation of Ardeth’s body, his mouth, his rare compliment, pressed so snug and tight against him.

He stifled a whimper of protest when Ardeth reined himself in and put a few inches of space between them to regain eye contact.

‘You would remain here?’

‘For an indefinite period of time, yes.’

‘For me?’

‘For what else?’

Ardeth appeared, for want of a better word, unsure. Hesitant.

‘You have a life in London. Surely you have responsibilities there. A home.’

‘My sister has been my home since our parents died,’ Jonathan said plainly. ‘And I can assure you, I am absolutely irresponsible.’ He had never been ashamed of it, and for the most part, he still wasn’t. But it certainly made it true that leaving England indefinitely wouldn’t be hard, given he had no real material possessions to keep him there. The diamond could be entrusted for the time being with his family. ‘And I don’t exactly have an occupation aside from hanging off the interesting parts of the O’Connell’s life. I can afford to keep you company for … well, for as long as you want me, really.’

It sounded a little pathetic, but Jonathan never planned a sentence all the way through to the end before he started saying it.

Ardeth’s expression softened and he pressed another light kiss to Jonathan’s lips. ‘And if I want you for some time to come?’

There it was again. That terrible hesitation, that was so unbefitting the brave warrior.

‘Then you’ll have me for some time to come.’

Ardeth tightened his grip on Jonathan’s waist.

‘Then we ought to make quick work of convincing your sister that you have left your diamond at the hotel.’

Jonathan grinned. He felt as if he were really smiling for the first time in years. He tried to wipe the smile off his face; he’d have to look very distraught if he was going to convince the O’Connell’s.

But even if he didn’t, Evie wasn’t exactly unused to his schemes. And after this grand adventure, they were all three of them probably itching to get on the boat home. They were tolerant of his habit of getting himself into trouble, in an exhausted sort of way.

‘Evelyn!’ Jonathan declared, rounding the corner at a determined march. ‘I’m afraid I’ve forgotten something very important!’


End file.
